Jasper County Democrat, Volume 23, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 June 1920 — THE MAN WHO WASN’T HIMSELF [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE MAN WHO WASN’T HIMSELF

By ROBERT AMES BENNET

11 23V W.

CHAPTER 11. Bonds. Left alone on the porch the guest again faced the sunset. But the dazding glories of red and gold were already fading Into the gray of twilight. He looked absently at the blackened bulk of the mountains, his expression shifting between annoyance and amusement, curiosity and apprehension. He was still evidently considering the situation when a small touring car came whirring along the street In the clear twilight. It stopped before ( the house and Doctor Kirkland sprang put with a briskness unusual In a genftleman of his portly figure. He came (up to the porch, his alert gaze on the lone guest. “What’s this?” he demanded. “Don’t Eean to say you’ve been left all this ne to entertain yourself?” “Not all the time," smilingly replied .the guest. “On the contrary Miss Kirkland and I —” His look became grave. “Much to my regret Miss Kirkland made the same mistake as Mrs. Kirkland and yourself.” i “Naturally. But If her mother —” “She had gone in when Miss Kirkland came around the house. I regret that my Insistence on my Identity irather overcame her.” “Not surprising, when she is engaged to you, Is It?" “Engaged to me! You mean of course —” “To your double, to Will Lowrie," explained the physician. “Do you need further proof that you are his double?” “No more. She was still quite positive, I fear, after all my attempts to convince her of the mistake. However, Mrs. Kirkland came, and no doubt has explained the mistake to her.” “Very likely,” agreed the physician. “I would have gone had they not [very kindly Insisted that I must re;maln.” i “You must.” “It is very hospitable of you to In|Slst. Still Ido not wish to cause your 'daughter the slightest distress.” “Nothing would distress her more •than” —the physician considered the jpoint—“than to have you refuse our 'hospitality.” “That being so I am very glad to stay. I’ve been recalling the fact thaf men even of national prominence have doubles who are mistaken for them. My resemblance to Mr. Lowrie is not so strong as I at first thought.” “Not at all,” replied Doctor Kirkland, his shrewd eyes twinkling. The guest stepped into the reception hall, and found himself In a well-fur-nlshed, comfortable home. The rooms were bright with the mellow radiance of indirect electric lighting. The little housemaid appeared, to take the guest’s hat and show him up the broad stairway to his room. I When he came down he found his host and hostess waiting for him in the drawing room. The doctor still wore his professional frock coat. As he rose to meet his guest the maid announced dinner. Miss Ellen was not With her parents, Mrs. Kirkland chatted familiarly with Clinton as she led him into the dining room. She observed him look at the housemaid with amused expectancy. “No,” she remarked, quick to catch his thought. “Mary will not be calling you Mr. Lowrie. She was not with Us when you—‘when Will left.” “And Miss Kirkland?” he asked. “Have you convinced her?” The lady smiled the least bit forcedly. “Have no fear. Ellen now knows the truth.” “That Is good. I can understand how it must have seemed to her. I wonder if you can realize my embarrassment? Think of a young lady mistaking one for her fiance I” “Good joke that,” put in the physician. “How many kisses?” “Karl !’•’ reproved his wife. They entered the dining room, the and the guest a trifle constrained. Ellen stood at the far side of the aval table arranging the lilies In the center. 'She was pale and her eyelids were slightly swollen. When she looked up and saw Clinton across from her she did not blush. If anything she became still more pale. He was quick to observe her appearance. “I am very sorry, Miss Kirkland,” he murmured. “It must have been quite a shock.” “You must not blame yourself,” she replied. “It was simply that I did not understand. Now, you see, lam quite over my—excitement." She smiled uncertainly at her father. “Between I bourses papa can give me a sedative r'suggestion.” i “Do you really use suggestion in yourDractlce’” Clinton Inquired of

the physician as they seated themselves. “Suggestion—little else," replied Doctor Kirkland. “You must bear in mind my specialty. Not but what, In time, the entire profession will be using suggestion as promiscuously as the Christian Scientists." “How the Scientists would be scandalized if they heard you!” said Mrs. Kirkland. “The slightest intimation that their treatment is related in any way to suggestion—” “There is no matter; therefore everything is immaterial; therefore It Is Immaterial what they think," solemnly reasoned the physician. ‘‘lsn’t It?” queried Clinton. “It is not immaterial,” his host flatly contradicted himself. \ “What they think —what anyone thinks —is exceedingly material. ‘As a man thinketh In his heart so is he.’ For instance,’ you think you are a certain/ personality named Richard Clinton.” “I not only think it I.know it.” “Do you know yourself? Do you know what you really are? Does anyone know what he or she really is?” “I at least have some idea who I am,” replied Clinton, smiling. "Some idea? You mean a small idea, an extremely small Idea. Every day there are millions of pictures, myriads of sounds, being stored away in your subconscious mind. Of how many of these were you aware at the time and how many can you now recall? Only a few, a pitiful cupful out of the ocean. Conscious man is a glowworm crawling over the vast dark field of his subconscious mind.” “You refer, I presume, to the odd cases known as double personality,” remarked Clinton. “ I must confess I hardly believe them possible.” “On the contrary,” asserted Doctor Kirkland, “such cases are far more numerous than is commonly known. As I Informed you, everybody is, strictly speaking, more or less Insane.” “There he goes again!” put in Mrs. Kirkland. “We’re all not quite ourselves !’’ “Some are much less so than others,” added her husband. “A few are not themselves at all. By the way, Mr.

Clinton —to change the subject— l am Interested In a small psychological experiment. It is to have one state, without pausing to think, the ideas suggested to him by a given word. Would you have any objections to my testing you?” “None whatever." Mrs. Kirkland and Ellen exchanged swift glances. The physician smiled blandly. “Then If you’ll answer quickly the Ideas suggested by—bonds.” As he spoke the word he eyed his guest with intense keenness. The ladies involuntarily leaned forward to catch the answer. Clinton smiled and responded without a trace of hesitancy : “Bonds —cash, bank account, trip to California —” "Enough, thank you,” interrupted the physician, his eyes twinkling with complacent self-satisfaction. “If there Is any other word you wish to try I shall be pleased to answer,” said the guest. “No, that was the only one. My real purpose In using it was to fish in your subconsciousness.” “And you caught—” “Merely a confirmation of certain optical Impressions.” “May I ask why you spoke of bonds?” Mrs. Kirkland interposed. *T fear

that you would hardly be interested in the matter." “Why, mamma," said Ellen, "how could he be other than Interested?” “Perhaps, perhaps," qualified her father. He looked at the guest with a shrewd glance. “It is rather a private matter, Mr. Clinton.” “Then of course — Pardon my curiosity." “We can trust you not to repeat what I tell you. Shortly before WillMr. Lowrie —accepted my advice to go to the sanitarium he was sent to Pueblo to negotiate fop an issue of bonds. The parties whom he represented were allotted one hundred thousand dollars of the issue, and the bonds in that amount were delivered over to him. Soon afterward Charlie Bemm, who had run sown to Pueblo in his touring car, came upon Will sitting in the station grounds. He had missed his train. Charlie took him In, suitcase and all, and brought him to Denver. Late that evening he came home with his suitcase but without the bonds. He had not turned them In at the bank, and he could not remember what he had done with them. Except for a vague recollection of riding with Charlie and Of wandering through City park, he could remember nothing since early that morning. The bonds have not yet been found.” “Has he never recalled what he did with them?” “Not to oiir knowledge. Worry over their loss Induced such alarming psychological conditions that the great speoialist In charge of the sanitarium prescribed an absolute change. He has been temporarily cut off from everything related to his life here. The last report received by me was that he had been sent abroad In the care of one of the staff. Since then we have heard nothing.” “There is the saying, ‘No news is good news,’ ” remarked Clinton. “If only we could believe that I” sighed Mrs. Kirkland. “Do you wonder that I was delighted when I saw you there at the depot, looking so strong and well?” “Mistaking me for this unfortunate Mr. Lowrie,” sympathetically replied Clinton. The physician had drawn out his watch. “I must return to the sanitarium. If you can keep Mr. Clinton entertained I shall be back soon — seven-thirty or eight.” He was up and away with his usual briskness. A few minutes later they left the table and went in to what Mrs. Kirkland aptly termed the living room. With a matter-of-course bearing Ellen at once seated herself at the piano and began to search in her music cabinet. Mrs. Kirkland excused herself to Clinton and went out a side doorway. Owing to the twisted corner of a rug the door did not close fast. A draft swung it ajar as Clinton drew back farther from the girl and seated himself on the chair at the far side of the doorway. He leaned back at ease and quietly took in the tasteful unpretentiousness of his surroundings. Ellen continued her search through the thick piles of music in the cabinet. She had made three or four selections and was looking for others when the muffled, broken murmur of a woman’s voice came to Clinton through the narrow opening of the door. He was not In a position to see through the crack, but there could be no doubt that Mrs. Kirkland was at a telephone some distance away, probably at the end of a narrow passage. Only disjointed fragments of her talk were audible: ♦‘Amy . . . alone? . . . How shall I tell you! . . . this afternoon . . . dined . . . No, no! . . . looks splendid, but . . . not Will. Not the slightest remembrance . . . must not despair . • . Yes, I’m certain, if anyone can cure him . . . be prepared . . . believes himself . . . Clinton —” As he realized that he was listening to talk that had reference to himself, the young man thrust out his hand to close the door. The sound attracted the attention of Ellen. She looked about at the guest, the corners of her perfect mouth drooping. She bent over the keyboard and began to play something soft and low that ran into eerie minor notes. He stood at the corner of the piano gazing down at her with a look of frank enjoyment. She was undoubtedly beautiful and she played well. When she looked up her eyes were suffused with tears, but there was eaexpectancy in her glance. In his eyes’’ was only the politely reserved admiration of a stranger. Her lips began to quiver. A tear overflowed and ran down her white cheek. She bowed forward with her face in her hands, sobbing in an uncontrollable outburst of grief. He was overcome with consternation. “Miss Kirkland! I —what can I have done? Believe me, I would not for anything —” “It’s—it’s n-not what you’ve done!” she sobbed. “It’s what y-you’ve not done!” “What I’ve not done?” he asked. “If only you’ll tell me !” “You don’t even remember it —our favorite!” she cried. “You mean—surely you cannot expect me to remember something I never — It’s not possible you still believe that I am not myself.” “But it’s —it’s you who deny it; you who— ■” She looked up at him, her tear-streaming eyes full of pitiful entreaty. “Oh, Will! won’t you please try to remember who you are?" “Miss Kirkland, pray be calm. I assure you that I am Richfird Clinton. I can easily prove that I —” “Look!” she interrupted, holding up her slender left hand, on which sparkled the diamond of a single ring. “Try to think! You must remember:

you cannot have forgotten about —" ,A rosy blush swept down over her pale sac when you put it there, dear!” About her slender neck was a fine gold chain, from which an oval locket hung pendant on her heaving bosom. She caught up the locket and touched the spring. The jeweled front of the locket opened. Within was a miniature painting. “Who is this—tell me, who Is this?” she asked. To see the miniature It was necessary that he should bend down close to the blushing girl. His own face ■flushed with embarrassment, but he 1 seated himself on the end of the bench and leaned over with his square jaw beside her rounded white shoulder. Had he looked only at the girl It would not have been surprising. As it chanced, however, the young man glanced first at the miniature. At once the incredulity of his expression gave place to surprise and perplexity. He leaned over for a closer look, his cheek only a few inches from the cheek of the girl. Except for a certain pinched look about the nose the

absence of the mustache and a marked thinness of jaw and cheek, the face in the miniature was his own —it was his face as it might look in ill health. The young man drew back, hts face clearly expressive of his astonishment. “It Is a—gnost remarkable resemblance, Miss Kirkland. I no longer wonder that you were deceived at the first, and this continued delusion on your part can, no doubt, be accounted for by the Intensity of that first impression.” “You still refuse to believe!" she cried. “You do not recognize your own picture! Can nothing make you remember?” “I have tried to-convince you of my Identity, but it seems to be breath wasted. My intention was to you some of the details of my life during the last year or two.” “That would be quite useless. Mamma explained that you are suffering from double personality, and I remember papa’s once telling me that in such cases the memory often is distorted and confused. But papa will soon cure you of your delusions.” “He shall not have the chance,” declared the young man, unable to conceal his annoyance. "I will leave town tonight.” “O-o-oh! . . . But if papa proves to you this evening that you are my—our Will?” He could no longer resist her insistence. “Very well,” he agreed. “I promise to believe the proofs. Will you do the same?” “Of course! Don’t I know already? You, too, will be convinced!” Radiant with delight, the girl turned to the piano and dashed into a brilliant selection from Chopin. The muslc covered the sound of the opening front door from the hall beyond the drawing room. Presently a gentleman appeared, unannounced, In the arched entrance of the drawing room. His gray-brown eyes shone with shallow brilliancy as they rested upon the couple at the piano. Clinton had rlseh. He stood gazing down at Ellen Kirkland with an air of attentive admiration easy to mistake for something deeper and more serious. Bemm sauntered over to a bookcase. Though he ( made no noise Clinton glanced along the room and perceived him. The girl, no less alert/ raised her head. “Oh, It’s you, Charlie!” she cried. “Then he remembers youI” She looked at the guest, her eyes dark with gentle reproach. “Will! how can you remember Mr. Bemm and not me?” He smiled ruefully. “A woman unconvinced against her will —” “I am convinced of my Will,” she corrected. , Clinton burst into a laugh so infectious that first Bemm .and then Ellen joined in. “My dear,” remarked Mrs. Kirkland, quietly entering at the side door. “Good evening, Charlie. What is it you find so very amusing?” “Such a joke, mamma! It is about Will being himself.” “Will?” queried the lady, with a delighted glance at the guest. He met her gaze with a semi-comic "Miss Kirkland still Insists that I am not myself. I certainly will not be much longer, if you join her and Mr. Bemm in trying to- convince me I’m not” . -- ----

“In my opinion," replied Mrs. Kirkland, “It will be as well for Ellen to finish the selection she was playing." Ellen met Mter mother’s glance, and at once continued her Chopin. She was still playing when her father burst in upon them. ' * "Good medicine,” he commented. “Nothing better than music to stir dormant associations, unless it is odors. Go on. Don’t let me stop you." His daughter began again the pas* sage that he had interrupted. He sat down close beside his wife and looked meditatively at the backs of the two young men, who stood on each side of the girlish musician. "You phoned Amy?" he asked. “Yes. She is fully prepared. She would have flown out to see him here—the dear girl! But I explained your wish to see wlait would be the effect on him of coming home and first seeing her there. If only Mrs. Lowrie were home too! He Is extremely fond of his stepmother." (TO BE CONTINUED.)

He Eyed His Guest With Intense Keenness.

The Face In the Miniature Was His Own.